


The House That Built Me

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22687927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: The Manor was a piece of them, but each of Bruce's boys all had another home first.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	The House That Built Me

_ Out here it's like I'm someone else, _

_ I thought that maybe I could find myself. _

It’s not that Bruce monitors Dick’s bank account. He  _ doesn’t,  _ but he keeps it a joint account so he can keep putting Dick’s monthly allowance in. Dick hasn’t touched the balance since The Fight nearly a year ago, even though they are, these days, on-again, off-again getting along. 

He  _ certainly  _ doesn’t get fraud alerts for this account. It’s Dick’s account, and Dick is (allegedly) an adult who can (allegedly) prevent fraud. It’s only that, since he  _ is  _ a joint owner, the alert for several thousand dollars when there hasn’t been any movement in years, does, actually, come to him.

He considers a text, or a phone call, to Dick. He hasn’t gotten an answer to one of those in a couple months, though, and Bruce doesn’t want to give him a chance to blow him off. 

Dick’s long since gotten rid of all Bruce’s trackers, blown up at him more than once about them, but Bruce spends a few hours hacking into Dick’s phone. 

Dick lets it happen. Bruce can’t decide if it’s justification or a bad sign. 

He’s five hours away in Connecticut. Bruce doesn’t even say goodbye to Alfred, just takes his fastest car and drives. 

He makes it in three, slowing down as the circus unravels before him. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but this was kind of a surprise. He doesn’t show it as he parks. 

Dick’s standing in the parking lot, watching as the circus gets packed up, ready to travel again. He knows Bruce is there so Bruce doesn’t say anything when he comes to stand at his side. 

The late afternoon sun is setting right in their eyes, and Bruce is glad he has his shades on. Dick is using his hand like a visor and squinting. Probably has gotten a burn too, never did remember sunscreen. 

After Dick closes his eyes against the light, Bruce takes his sunglasses off and hands them over. He half expects Dick to throw them back in his face, but Dick just settles them over his eyes. They’re too big and slip down his nose. 

“You look awful,” Dick says at last. He’s staring straight ahead, but Bruce knows he’s seen the dark circles, pallid, stretched-too-tight skin. 

Bruce grunts a response. He does look awful. There’s nothing else to say. 

Dick used to fill his silences. Then Jason. Now—-

Nothing. 

“I bought it.” Dick says it as abruptly as he turns around to face away from the setting sun toward the parking lot, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“I got the bank notice,” Bruce agrees. 

“Mr. Haley died,” Dick explains, and Bruce suppresses an instinct to reach out and grip his shoulder. “It’s failing. Dying. But I couldn’t let it.”

Bruce nods, and Dick continues, “The circus, my parents--they’re as much a part of me as you and the Manor.” 

It’s not until Dick says it that Bruce realizes he still considers the Manor part of him. That that time in life means something, even if now--

Even if now all that’s between them is a few thousand dollars and a dying circus. 

Dick finally looks at him. Bruce can read him, even with the years of discord, the shades over his eyes, but he’s still unprepared when Dick says, “I’m sorry about Jason.”

His voice is choked a little, and Bruce doesn’t know what to say because it’s laced with “should have’s.”

Should have called, should have told, should have never let him go, should have, should have, should have. 

Dick lets him reel a little, enough to let Bruce know he’s at least sincere, then he wraps his arms around himself--not even wearing a jacket, and the sun’s just about gone--and asks, almost too soft to hear, “Can we go home?” 

He doesn’t mean his apartment in Bludhaven. He doesn’t even mean somewhere here at the Circus.

“Sure, chum,” Bruce says, finding his voice again, even though it comes out hoarse. 

Bruce takes his coat off and wraps it around Dick, who doesn’t protest, even when he’s bundled, like a child, into Bruce’s car. 

Dick falls asleep halfway there, and Bruce doesn’t wake him until they’re at the Manor.

Until they’re home. 

**Author's Note:**

> No one tell me if it's possible to drive a car that fast. I will refuse to listen. 
> 
> Sometimes at 2am on Saturdays if I've been drinking wine, I start listening to Miley Cyrus's backyard sessions and Miranda Lambert on YouTube. And uh so this was born lol. Title taken from Miranda Lambert's song, obviously. Planning to do one for each of the boys. I have lyrics and setting picked out at least for each of them lol--updates sporadic


End file.
